Life is Undefined
by Hakusamia
Summary: ...and life can be a terribly cruel sadist. Romano thinks so. At another 'World Meeting' (in other words, another period of barely controled chaos), the southern half of Italy finds himself in a slightly uncomfortable, definitely unfortunate, and possibly dangerous situation; a few others being dragged along for the ride. Now, all they can do is blame England and hope for the best.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, you can totally ignore this note if you want to. As a warning, this is my first story, so if it sucks and you don't like it, that's fine. But if you're already here and reading this, then don't go back now just because you now know this. You can leave after all of the information is given. It will be a multi-chapter, though I'm not really sure how many it will have since I don't have a plan. I'm just going along chapter by chapter, thus, I also don't really know where the story's going to go. The reason why it's rated T...well, there's Romano in there, and we all know (or should know) about his little language issue. Also, there will be shounen-ai. Not yaoi, shounen-ai; there is a difference. But you get the point. Also, I will update sporadically. It could take a few days (yeah, right), a few weeks, a few months...probably not a few years, but who knows. I may not have much of a social life, but school and possibly a job when I'm old enough to get one is still important and takes up a buttload of my time, and I get writers block a lot, so...yeah. But not matter what, I WILL NOT drop this. I will never drop any story unless I die. If this isn't your thing, you can leave now and I won't stop you, I just figured you deserved a fair warning.**

**As a side note, I have no idea why I named the story what I did. I suck at titles.**

**Edit: Fixed a few spelling errors here and there. That's it. Hehe...**

* * *

**Life is Undefined**

**Chapter 1:**

**In Which South Italy Finds Himself Trapped in a Confined Room with Four Bastards of Various Titles**

Italia Romano, otherwise known by most normal people as simply Romano, moved briskly through the halls of the building where the current World Meeting was being held with a grumpy look on his face. Okay, maybe grumpy was an understatement. It was more of an "if-you-come-within-five-meters-of-me-I'll-bite-your-fucking-face-off-bastard" kind of look. Of course, and unfortunately for Romano, some nations have to be oh so oblivious to the emotions of others. The sound of heavy footsteps charging down the hall alerted the Italian, who quickly sidestepped to avoid whatever fresh hell had decided to try to tackle him. The fresh hell landed on the ground with a grunt and a loud thump. "Ouch!" A familiar voice floated up from the ground, assaulting Romano's ears.

Romano scowled and gave the Spaniard his most powerful 'Death Glare'. "What the hell do you want, Spain?" he huffed, folding his arms across his chest. He really didn't need to deal with this now.

Spain, unable to take the hint (or sense the waves of irritation practically radiating from the younger nation), smiled cheerfully and began to stand. "I was just wondering how my former charge was doing~." He hummed, slinging an arm over Romano's shoulders, "Hey, is something wrong? You seem kinda grumpy. I mean, you're normally grumpy, but today you seem even more-" Romano quickly wriggled to escape the man's grasp before he could say anything else and tried to continue on his not-so-merry way. But Spain was, if nothing else, persistent.

"C'mon, Roma, tell Boss what's wrong~!"

"IT'S ROMANO, DAMNIT!" Romano hissed, "And for your information, I had to wake up at fuck-o'clock in the morning only to find that my idiot of a brother had DITCHED me to go with that damn potato bastard and the potato bastard's bastard brother AND he took the only car we own AND THE WALLET WE SHARE which meant that I had no money to get a cab and had to walk ALL THE FUCKING WAY over to this place, which also happens to be in the potato bastard's home, IN THE FUCKING DARK. THAT'S WHAT'S WRONG, DAMN IT!"

As Romano took a few seconds to breathe, the cheerful man beside him decided that it would be a good idea to cut in before he could start his rant again by saying, "Well, at least you made it here in time, right?" The smile on his face proved that he wasn't trying to be sarcastic at all (_pfft, as if SPAIN could ever be sarcastic_, Romano thought), and under normal circumstances, Romano would have face-palmed until his forehead had a hand imprinted on it. This situation though, was not normal, so all the Italian could do was sigh heavily and continue towards the meeting room with an overly energetic Spaniard at his heels, following him like a cute (yet obnoxious) puppy.

* * *

Prussia yawned and, while rubbing the tears from his eyes, glanced around the room, feeling bored as hell. It was obvious from everyone's expressions that the feeling was mutual for a large majority of the world. Everyone was being surprisingly well behaved, though that was probably partially due to the fact that they were in Germany's territory. Prussia had never liked these "World Meetings" (they were totally un-awesome) even when he was still a nation. He had been formed solely for the purpose of waging war, not for…THIS. Even so, the albino felt that it was only right for him to come to this. His younger brother was the host country this time around, and he felt that it would be at least somewhat insulting to Germany if he had just stayed at home locked up in his room (Germany's basement) all day, sitting on his ass and playing video games.

_…That doesn't sound like a bad idea_, thought the Prussian, who then proceeded to (secretly) take his phone out of his pocket (his old flip phone, Germany had taken his iPhone away as punishment for his…misbehavior earlier in the week). As soon as the time popped up on the screen he snapped the device shut, his face twisted in disgust. It was twelve-freaking-thirty. They'd been sitting around that God forsaken table for almost seven hours already! No wonder he couldn't feel his legs anymore! …Or his ass. He groaned inwardly, about to open his phone again when the sound of chairs moving across the ground and the shuffling of feet around him caught his attention.

"Hey, Gilbert!" A cheerful voice called, and the Prussian looked up to see Spain approaching him, "Wanna have lunch together?" Apparently, someone had decided that they had enough of sitting around and talking, so a break had been called for. Finally.

"Sure, Antonio," He said with a smirk plastered onto his face, "Where's your boyfriend?" Prussia then proceeded to laugh at the confused look on his friends face before waving it off as a joke. "Never mind, is France here?" He openly wondered. It had been a while, a few months actually, since the three had last spent time together.

For those who don't know, the nations known as France, Spain, and the ex-nation known as Prussia, had this whole clique thing going on between them. To each other, they were simply the best of friends. To everyone else in the world, they were trouble. They had even been dubbed as the "Bad Touch Trio", the group of idiots who went around pulling pranks on everything else in the world. One of their best pranks had involved a bucket of mud, a slice of pizza, a shoe, a flamethrower, and making America piss himself. Twice. But that's beside the point.

Spain shrugged. "I think I saw Francis leaving with someone who looked like America…but I don't remember who."

Prussia had a pretty good idea of who the Spaniard was thinking of, but knew that even if he mentioned the second largest nation (Canada, who?), his friend would have no idea who he was talking about, so instead opted to look around the nearly empty room. The only ones left were himself, Spain, and surprisingly China who was still in his seat with a rather large stack of paperwork to his right. Though to the two younger men, that fact was insignificant.

"Hey, Spain, I know this awesome restaurant nearby," Prussia stated, beginning to walk towards the nearest exit, "Let's-"

_SLAM!_

* * *

"Why must I continually be surrounded by idiots", Romano thought out loud, cursing his life. Italia Veneziano, AKA: Romano's idiot of a brother as previously stated in his rant to Spain, had just approached him asking if he wanted to go out and get lunch with them. And by them, Veneziano had meant himself and that damned potato bastard.

_Why, God, why? I go to church every Sunday…I take care of my brother when he's not with that muscley potato son of a bitch…okay, I have some issues with swearing and anger management, but you should be able to overlook that, right…?_…And of course, our favorite southern Italian was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't notice when someone turned the around the next corner.

_THUD! _Thus, Romano ended up sprawled out on the floor in somewhat of a comical fashion. He felt as though he had just run into a grizzly bear, or something along those lines, due to the intense feeling of fear that began to crawl up his spine (because normally, he would have cussed his head off). The faint sound of someone chanting "kolkolkolkol" in the background gave him more than enough of a hint as to who he had just bumped. _Oh sweet Jesus…WHY?! _The Italian looked up and found himself face to face with the last person he ever wanted to run into.

Russia.

"Privet, other Italy," the tall man greeted with an innocent, yet somehow creepy, smile on his face, "Going somewhere?"

One of the few people whom Romano (though he would never admit it) feared over France and Turkey was trying to start conversation with him? Not happening. "W-well, you see…I…uh…" he stammered, attempting to form any sort of coherent excuse to bail him out of his predicament. Unfortunately, no such words were coming to his short-circuiting brain, so he simply fell back to doing what Italians do best: Running away while screaming like a little girl.

"GYAAAAH SPAIN YOU BASTARD COME AND SAVE MEEEEE!" He shrieked, leaping to his feet and charging off in the direction from which he came. Russia, who had no idea what had just happened, simply smiled and decided to follow him.

* * *

_SLAM!_

Spain managed to jump out of the way just in time as the large (and heavy) door swung open. Prussia wasn't so lucky, and ended up on the floor after receiving a rather violent blow to the face from the large (and very heavy) piece of wood. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Romano was laughing at the East German's predicament, but there were larger priorities on his mind at the moment.

He dived forward, tackling Spain and throwing both of them under the table. This motion caused the table to rock violently which, in turn, scattered China's paperwork everywhere within a five meter radius of where the stack had previously been. The Asian man threw up his hands in defeat. _Why are all of the western countries so annoying, aru!?_

It was at that moment in which Russia chose to enter the room. Prussia, who had just recovered from the blow to his (awesome) face, squeaked in a very girly fashion (though he would never admit it) and scampered to the other side of the room in order to put as much distance between himself and the psychopath as possible. China, who still feared the large nation, abandoned any pride he had and quickly dived under the table to join the two Mediterranean countries.

Spain, the most friendly (and most oblivious) occupant of the room poked his head out of the table. "Hey there, Russia!" he greeted happily, prying himself free of Romano's grasp and hauling himself out from under the piece of furniture, "What's up?"

_Shut up, you idiot…_ Prussia urged silently but he knew it was no use and that his stupid friend would continue with whatever stupidity he was stupidly trying to accomplish.

Romano was having the exact same thoughts from his hiding place, which he now happened to be sharing with that "panda bastard". _Just great…of course out of all the bastards I could've run into it HAD to be that creepy bastard. And now that damn tomato bastard is out there talking to him! Not to mention the potato bastard's bastard brother is here… _He sighed heavily and rolled onto his back, looking up at the underside of the table and praying silently for everything to end.

…Of course, he had to notice the faint lines drawn onto the old wood with what appeared to be white chalk. Tentatively, he reached up to touch one of the marks. As soon as his fingers brushed against the wood, all of the marks lit up in a pattern that looked very similar to one of England's magic circles, or whatever they were.

There was a loud banging noise as all of the doors slammed shut simultaneously. Prussia, who, at this point, was very close to pissing himself (though, again, he would never admit it), darted towards the nearest door and attempted to open it, only to find that it was locked. In his panic, he kicked the door hard, attempting to break it down, something that almost all of the nations discovered they had the strength to do at some point in time. He ended up with a sore foot.

"What the _FUCK_ is going on?!" Romano yelled, also in a state of panic, as he rolled out from underneath the now glowing table. The magic circle (?) was now visible from the top of the piece of furniture as well. Before anyone could do anything more, a loud _GZZZZZZZZT_ sound echoed through the room and everything went black.

* * *

**A/N: Yay, you survived! If you like it, that's good. If not, that's fine too. I apologize for any OoC-ness that may have been in there. So...if you liked it, I guess I'll be seeing you next time. 'Til then, TBC.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow...I'm surprised you people liked this. Anyway, I apologize in advance for the way the chapters kind of skip from POV to POV...I think that they're probably all going to be like that until the stories come together, so if you don't like that you can bail out now. Yeah...I didn't think of that before, sorry.**

******Anyway (again), thanks to all you people who followed/favorited/reviewed/actually took time out of your lives to read my first chapter. And to answer the guest's question, yes, yes I did draw the cover page. Now, onto the story.**

* * *

**Life Is Undefined**

**Chapter 2:**

**In Which Mirrors Are Magical and Prussia Freaks Out**

"W-what just happened!?"

"Where are the windows!? Wasn't it just sunny out, aru!?"

"Damn it, I can't see anything! Not awesome!"

"CHIGI! Something just touched me! Spain, you bastard, help…!"

"Everyone shut up and calm down or I'll beat all of your faces in with my pipe," At that statement, the room fell silent. No one dared to move, or even breathe, for they all feared the Russian's wrath. Though none of them could see it, Russia smiled. "Now then, let's figure this out _calmly_."

"He's right," Spain agreed, nodding his head in the darkness, "If we panic, we won't be able to do anything."

"Then what the _FLYING FUCK_ just happened?" Romano cursed; going back under what he assumed was the table. Prussia attempted to find his way around the room, and within five steps, he ended up stepping on something, namely Romano's hand (because the Italian hadn't gotten around to standing at this point). Romano, who forgot that he had gone back under the table, shot up into a sitting position (or at least tried to) and whacked the bottom of it with his head. The table shook slightly and the chalk pattern/England's (?) creation/magic circle thing lit up once more, enveloping the once pitch black room in a soft, somewhat eerie blue glow. China crawled out from under the table as Spain rushed over to where his friend and former charge were. Prussia looked around a bit before smirking to himself. "I'm so awesome. You should all be thanking me for this."

"Yeah, okay, _THANK YOU VERY MUCH_, YOU STUPID FUCKING POTATO BASTARD." Romano hissed from his spot on the floor, sarcasm and irritation practically dripping from his words as he dragged himself to his feet. Prussia didn't pick up on this, however, and continued to ignore the pissed off Italian. Said Italian grumbled angrily and stood up, rubbing his injured appendage while taking in his surroundings. The room, which was still rather dark, no longer had any windows, and two sets of doors stood closed on either side of the room. Romano made his way over to the nearest door and tried tugging it open, but his efforts were fruitless.

"Fuck, the doors are locked. What now?" He asked, turning to the other four occupants for suggestions.

Prussia stepped forward and grabbed hold of the handle. "Maybe you just weren't pulling hard enough. Let the awesome me try," he said, turning the knob and giving the door a slight tug. There was a soft click as the door creaked open, and the Germanic ex-nation smiled triumphantly. "That was easy! Bow before my awesomeness!" He opened the door wider, but instead of a hallway on the other end, as there had been before, there was a wall.

Spain stepped up to the doorway and tapped on the wall like how one would to a fish tank. "I don't think we can get through this-"

"Out of the way." The Spaniard ducked to the side just as Russia brought his pipe down on the wall. The metal bounced off harmlessly, and the wall remained completely intact. He then pulled a small handgun out of his coat and fired twice. Both bullets met the same fate, and flew off in unknown directions.

Romano sighed, cursing under his breath, "Just try the other doors already, you damn idiots!" He growled, about to move on to the next set of doors when Prussia approached the wall once more.

The albino stared intently at the concrete, before placing his own hand on it. "There has to be some way to get past this," he said with a serious tone, removing his black leather gloves and bringing his hands up to the obstacle once more. Suddenly, cracks started to form on the surface that met Prussia's skin; crumbling to dust soon after and revealing that the surface underneath was very much like a mirror. The ex-nation gazed intently at the new surface, and what stared back at him was a pair of piercing blue irises that held a slight air of familiarity.

"No…" he breathed, taking a small step back, "No, no, no…this is just…NOT possible…!" The figure in the mirror was like one would expect; and exact copy from the physical appearance to the emotions that were dancing around in the albino's eyes. And that was the problem; the striking, messy blond locks, intense blue eyes, and slightly tanned yet still light complexion. The person staring back at him was most certainly NOT him…yet, it was. The others also gazed on with a look of shock (or light surprise in Russia's case), not sure what to make of this new development.

…And, while they were all wallowing in the midst of their confusion, none noticed when a small smirk grew on the reflections face. It was a darker smirk, lacking in the usual, light playfulness that the original's normally held. In a single, lightning-fast movement, it stuck its arm OUT through the surface of the wall, grabbed hold of Prussia, and dragged him into the mirror. He disappeared as soon as he passed through the wall, and the reflection remained for a split-second more, a triumphant smile decorating its face before fading away as well.

* * *

A pair of men could be seen exiting a somewhat busy restaurant a bit after one o'clock in the afternoon; one a bubbly Italian and the other a stoic German. While Italy wasn't all too happy to be heading back to the boring meeting that was, in his opinion, lacking in good food (translation: pasta) and kitties and good places to take siestas, he couldn't help but act (and feel) as though he was having the time of his life (as always). Germany, however, had a completely different outlook.

The meeting was going well; they were actually getting SOME work done, which was, in itself, a miracle of sorts. However, shortly after having left the government facility, a feeling had been growing in his gut. A bad feeling. And although he wasn't normally one for believing in superstitious mumbo-jumbo, he knew there was something wrong. Especially since his brother wasn't answering his phone. The last thing he wanted was to go back the meeting room only to find it in shambles. Or worse; the whole damn building reduced to piles of rubble (and honestly, he wouldn't put it past his brother to pull off something like that).

"…many…Germany! We're here~!" Italy called, pulling the blonde from his thoughts. _At least the building LOOKS intact, _he thought to himself before acknowledging his friend. Together, the two started towards the building.

* * *

"…He's gone," Spain stated, staring dumbly at the mirror (which was now empty, despite the fact that they were all standing in front of it).

"Thanks for pointing that out, captain obvious," Romano scoffed, placing his palm on the mirror and pushing against the surface. The surface FELT solid enough to him, though he couldn't be sure so he pulled his hand away. He most certainly was NOT planning on being the next victim to whatever the hell the thing in front of him was.

Russia stepped up next to the Italian and also dared to touch the mysterious surface. "It also seems fairly obvious that we won't be able to go through this way again," he said, then turned to the others, "Perhaps we should try the other doors?"

"You're crazy, aru!" China cried, "We have no idea where these things lead and you're suggesting that we use them?!"

"Then what else do you suggest?" the taller man argued, "So far, we have found no other means of possible escape."

Spain nodded in agreement, "I know I've been taking Russia's side for most of this time, but I say we take our chances. Who knows, we might even be able to find Prussia while we're at it." China sighed, giving in, and Romano also gave his approval, despite the fact that he grumbled quite a bit.

"Fine, then," he huffed, "Let's get this shit over with…"

* * *

Germany gazed intently at the doorknob, as though the sheer intensity of his glare alone would make it melt or implode or maybe, just maybe, freaking UNLOCK for him. Yes, he had tried breaking it down, he had tried his stupid key, he had tried picking the lock…he had tried practically everything in his arsenal of "How to get a goddamned door open" knowledge, and all his efforts were fruitless ; thus the reason why he had resorted to using "The Force", as America called it.

"Hey, Germany, why don't we try the other doors?"

The blonde gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to avert his gaze onto the ditzy Italian beside him. "We already have, Italy," he said, his voice strained, "Ten times. Why must you insist on asking?"

"Maybe if we try again it'll work!" Italy answered with such a matter-of-fact tone that Germany couldn't help but face-palm. How optimistic could one person possibly be?

There was almost no doubt in his mind that this was some sort of trick, and also that Prussia was behind it. This whole mess had his name practically written on it, with the eagle insignia of his flag scratched into the door. Whenever something went wrong with his life, Prussia was usually at the bottom of it (with the few exceptions of the true cause being that his boss had been/is a total dick-head). But this meeting was important, and no matter how much his boss liked to mess with him, he wouldn't put something like this in jeopardy.

A sudden, loud, unintelligible scream snapped Germany from his thoughts and he found that the owner of the voice was using him as a human shield. The sound of footsteps from multiple legs could be heard coming from down the hall. The muscular man looked up to see two blondes coming in their general direction.

"You bloody frog, get the bloody hell away from me!"

"Ohonhon…you know, you say the word bloody a lot when you're angry, Angleterre."

"SHUT THE BLOODY FUCK U-…oh, hello there Germany, Italy. Are you two standing out here for a reason?"

Germany sighed heavily, turning back to the door. "As much as I'd hate to admit it, I'm having problems getting back into the meeting room," he said quickly, "The keys no longer work, and for some reason I can't seem to break in."

"I'm guessing that this is your brother's work, non?" France said with a laugh, obviously referring to the image that was engraved into the door, "He's always been one to pull crazy stunts." Germany sighed once more; he just couldn't help but agree with the Frenchman's words.

England, however, had a completely different idea. He approached the door with what appeared to be extreme caution, his eyebrows (the forests on his face) furrowed. Italy, who would normally be oblivious to things such as this (since he hadn't yet read the mysterious and elusive book, _The Atmosphere_), took notice of the island nation's behavior and put away his fear of the man to observe him.

"Hey, you two," he called to the two bickering blondes behind him, causing both to stop turn in his direction, "I have an idea of what this could be, and believe me, it's no trick or practical joke. But I need you both to listen and not interrupt, this is important." The other three men that were currently sharing the same air space as the Brit took notice of his now completely serious demeanor and turned his attention to him, waiting for the explanation to come.

* * *

The first thing he noticed as he stirred back into consciousness was that he was lying on something that was kind of soft, but smelled like dirt. There was also some sort of water nearby, for he could hear it running and suddenly got the strong urge to pee. Lastly, there was something crawling on his hand, which was very near to his face. When he opened his eyes, he saw the beady eyes of a centipede staring straight back at him.

"Scheiße!"

Prussia whipped his hand up into the air, flinging the offending creature off of his skin and onto the dirt. As soon as the thing got its bearings, it seemed to send him a nasty glare before scurrying off into the underbrush. Wait…underbrush?

The Germanic ex-nation nearly smacked himself for being so unaware of his surroundings until just at that moment. "Where the hell am I…?" he questioned out loud. Currently, he was sitting in a grassy clearing of what appeared to be some sort of forest. A small river ran to his right and he figured that must have been where the sound of running water was coming from. The area was rather nice; quite and calm. And then he remembered what brought him there.

As quickly as he could, the albino scurried over to the river, staring into the water to get a good look at his reflection. Silver hair, blood-red eyes, overly pale skin…check, check, and check. He breathed a sigh of relief, glad that he still looked like himself. Along with the feeling of relief came the intense urge to relieve himself once more. Prussia stood, facing the river, and was about to pull down his pants when he heard the sound of something moving through the foliage.

Turning around, he automatically went into battle position. Peeing could wait; if there was a threat, it would be advantageous to take care of it now. He was ready for anything. Anything except for what actually appeared.

A man stepped out into the clearing, the sunlight bouncing off of his shoulder-length, golden locks; glinting off of his cerulean eyes. The way he held himself almost like a nobleman, the well-trimmed beard…it could only be one person.

"…France?"

* * *

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So...this is probably a more accurate amount of time that it'll take for an update (give or take a few weeks, haha) considering that that last chapter was already half-done when I posted Chapter 1...**

**Anyway, thanks to you people who read and reviewed/favorited/followed/whatever you guys did. I love you~ in a not creepy way, haha.**

**And also, thanks to Microclown who brought this up (so now I can address it, yay!) but yes, I don't know how to write some of these characters, so they will probably be OoC at one point or another (especially with China...why did I bring him into this...). So if anyone has advice for some of the characters, feel free to PM me or comment~ and I've rambled for long enough.**

**Here's chapter 3...enjoy~!**

* * *

**Life is Undefined**

**Chapter 3:**

**In Which Other Selves are Found, England's Ideas of Magic are Considered, and Romano and Spain Have an Awkward Moment**

"…France?"

An awkward silence hung in the air as the two men stared at each other for a moment. The blonde Frenchman opened his mouth as though to say something, but then closed it again. This process repeated a few times before he finally gave up; offering a smile, a sigh, and a shrug. "What is this, Gil, another new nickname?" he asked, amusement laced into his words, "Really, just last week you started calling me 'Francey-pants'…what's next?"

Prussia, however, was not amused AT ALL with the turn of events. _Did he just call me __**GIL**__…? He thought, What the….wait, no, no that's right! That's my human name… Jesus, I haven't used that in a while…now what was it? Gil…Gil…Gilbert! Yeah…and my last name…shit, I don't remember!_

…And while the albino man wracked his brain for answers (all the while making strange facial expressions and muttering/cursing under his breath like a deranged, crazy-man), 'France' raised an eyebrow and asked, "Did you hit your head or something? You're acting strange." Prussia – no, Gilbert now – was caught slightly off guard by the query, and jumped a bit.

"Y-Yeah, I'm totally fine…! No problem! Everything's…uh...awesome!" he managed to stammer out lamely, crossing his arms and avoiding eye contact, "So, w-what're you doing out here, Fran…Frans…Fransssss-"

"…cis. Francis. And you most certainly are not okay."

"Haha, of course I am!" Gilbert said loudly, perhaps trying to sound a bit too convincing, "The awesome me is still awesome as always! Now-" He stopped mid sentence as the urge came again. Oh, god, he REALLY, REALLY needed to relieve himself. _Hey, I'd been sitting in a meeting room for SEVEN HOURS, and then was freaking BLASTED into a strange forest to meet a France-who-is-actually-FrancIS…I think I deserve to pee. …And I am thinking to myself again._

"What on earth are you doing…?"

"Pulling down my pants, what does it look like?"

"But WHY?"

"I need to piss, damn it!" the albino hissed, turning to the river and doing his…business, "Thank fucking GOD for that river!" As he reached down to pull his clothes back up, a discovery was made. _When did I change?_ Yes, the ever-observant Prussia had not noticed up to this point, but he was no longer wearing his military uniform. _Come to think of it, Franc…is probably would've said something if I were…he's wearing regular clothes too…damn, why do I keep thinking to myself?!_

"Gil, you're making weird faces," the Frenchman cut into his thoughts, concern still in his words , though now it was also mixed with suppressed laughter, leaving Gilbert to wonder what the hell kind of faces he'd been making. The albino was about to give an angry retort when Francis glanced down at his watch. "Mon Dieu, we're late! We were supposed to pick up Tonio and Lovino ten minutes ago! Come on, let's go!" He turned and melted back into the greenery, motioning for Gilbert to follow. The Prussian, who still had no idea where the heck he was, decided that it would be best to do as directed and followed closely behind.

* * *

Romano screamed in frustration, punching and kicking at the block of wood in front of him as Spain attempted to hold him back on his own, being the only one left in the room with the raging Italian. Both Russia and China had managed to open a door; and both had been pulled in by their reflections, much like how Prussia had. Now the only ones left were the two Mediterranean nations.

"LET GO OF ME RIGHT NOW BEFORE I KICK YOU IN THE BALLS I AM GOING TO _FUCKING DESTROY THAT FUCKING DOOR_!" Romano shrieked, struggling wildly to escape the other's grip, but his efforts were fruitless. Yes, the enraged man had tried to open the door like any other civilized person, but it hadn't worked out too well. The door was locked.

Spain had done the same, only to yield the exact same results, thus leading them to their current predicament. "C-Calm down…!" the older nation yelled, attempting to pin the other against the (nearly forgotten) table. He then received exactly what Romano had offered (threatened): a boot to the crotch.

As the Spaniard went down, the Italian took his chance and leapt towards the door. He grabbed the knob with both hands, placing one foot on the door, and began tugging violently. "WHY WON'T YOU FREAKING OPEN!?" This continued on for a few minutes until finally the disgruntled Italian pulled away, giving in and collapsing on the floor with an angry, "Hrumph!"

"…Are you done?" Spain asked tentatively, not wanting to receive another blow in his slightly weakened state, as he crawled over to where Romano lay.

"…Yeah," he grumbled, turning on his side so that his back was facing Spain. He really hated it when things didn't go his way (which seemed to be most of the time).

Spain sat up and gazed intently at the door in front of them, while Romano remained silent. The two stayed in that position for god knows how long before the Spaniard finally stood up and walked up to the door. "Hey…do you think that since there's only one door left, maybe we have to open it together?" he thought aloud, "…I mean…everyone had their own door that only they could open, so maybe the only way to open this one is for both of us to open it at the same time…?" Romano shot up into a sitting position.

"Spain…I can't believe I'm saying this but you might be right," he said, his eyes wide with shock as he also stood and stepped up next to the other man, "If this works, you are a fucking genius." The Italian grabbed hold of the doorknob once more, feeling himself blush when Spain put his hand on top of his. "Bastard…"

The cheery brunette smiled, already used to the younger's personality and knowing that he was simply embarrassed. On the count of three, they both turned the knob and, without any additional problems, were able to open the previously locked door. Before them stood another concrete wall, similar as to what the others had faced. Spain placed his hand on it, and then turned to Romano who hesitated for a millisecond before doing the same. The surface chipped, cracked, and then fell off revealing the mirror with two figures gazing at them, both with a smile on their face.

"Hello, hello!" Spain's reflection mouthed, his eyes glinting dangerously, "We've been waiting." It reached out to grab Romano, while Romano's grabbed Spain, and the two nations were pulled through.

* * *

"You, sir, are a crazy man."

"I. Am. Not!" England nearly yelled, "Magic is real, I tell you! Real!"

"Hey, dudes~! What're you guys fighting about this time~!" an overly-happy voice shouted from down the hall, and they all turned to see another blonde strutting towards them, hamburger in hand.

"England's trying to convince us that magic is real-"

"-Because it bloody is!"

"Dude, magic is about as real as that 'Flying Mint Bunny' you always talk about," America stated bluntly, shoving the entire sandwich into his mouth.

The Brit's eyebrow twitched and he shot the younger nation a nasty glare, "Flying Mint Bunny IS real, you dope! So is magic! I can prove it to you!" In that single moment of pure rage, England whipped out a wand, one that looked suspiciously like one of those cheap ones you'd buy at a toy store, with the big yellow star on the end. "Hoataa!" With a flick of his wrist, he sent a small, glittery star in France's direction. It collided with the Frenchman and he was enshrouded in a cloud of smoke. When it cleared France was no longer there.

"What the hell did you do to me, eyebrows?!" Or maybe he was, just no longer at eye level. Germany, Italy, and America all looked down, dumbfounded, to see a younger, much, much smaller France standing there with an irritated expression plastered onto his face.

England smirked triumphantly, "I put a spell on you, that's what!" he huffed, obviously at least somewhat proud of his work, "That'll teach you to make fun of my magic!" Mini-France gave him a look that clearly said, "Change me back now, or else!" but the Englishman simply shrugged, saying, "I can't." And with an added smirk, "You'll change back by yourself…in a few hours." He then turned to the rest of the group. "Do you believe me now? Or must I demonstrate again…?"

"Okay, okay…so say that magic actually does exist and is the cause of this problem," Germany said quickly, not wanting a new problem to arise, "Since you can obviously use it, would you be able to fix whatever's going on?"

"Unfortunately, things aren't that simple," England sighed, putting away his wand, "This isn't my spell, thus I don't even know which spell is being used. Based on how things are at the moment, though, I have a rather good guess, though we'd have to test it out before I can give a definitive answer. Is there a source of water or reflective surface anywhere nearby?"

"There's an old bathroom back that way," America piped in, "The mirrors are all old and stuff…so I wouldn't consider them 'reflective' or whatever, but there's water. By the way, can someone tell the hero what's going on, 'cause I'm lost."

England nodded, "Sure, follow me to the…restroom, and we'll explain the situation."

* * *

When Romano awoke, the first thing he noticed was that he was lying in a bed. The second thing, he was completely naked, save for a pair of boxers. Lastly, there was an arm draped around his bare waist and someone breathing on his neck. Resisting the urge to kick and scream in case the 'person' (it could be some sort of weird animal, for all he knew) was a threat. Carefully, he peeled the arm off of him and rolled out of the bed, landing on the floor with a thud. Slowly, he peered over the edge of the bed to see who else was in it…and nearly screamed, feeling a blush color his features. "Spain, wake up," he hissed out in a strained whisper. He then stood, looking down at the man and daring to make his voice a bit louder, "Spain!"

The tanned man stirred, his eyes fluttering open. "Romano…?" he muttered, still groggy, "Where is this?" Romano shrugged, and the Spaniard sat up, causing the sheets to fall off of his body.

The Italian screamed (a very manly scream, mind you!) and ducked down, blushing like crazy. He had just seen parts of Spain that he had never wanted to see. Spain, too, let out a (manly) squeak and pulled the covers completely over himself so that he now looked like a lump of sheets on the bed. Still shell-shocked, Romano just remained sprawled out on the floor, face-down.

"…Spain?"

"…Yes?"

"Why the _fuck_ are you _NAKED_."

"…You know…that is a really…really good question."

"I DON'T CARE IF IT'S A GOOD QUESTION OR NOT SHUT UP AND PUT SOME CLOTHES ON _RIGHT NOW_ BEFORE I PUNCH YOUR FACE IN."

No response was needed, for the red-faced Italian could hear the Spaniard get up through the rustling of the sheets and run around the room in search of some form of clothing. After a while, he had no idea how long, Romano felt something fall on his back. He dared to look up and found that Spain was now holding a shirt and was (thankfully) wearing jeans. The younger man then moved quickly, pulling on the clothes that had been thrown in his direction.

Just as both men were fully dressed, they heard something that sounded much like a doorbell. "Should we go check it out?" Spain asked, avoiding eye contact; obviously because he was still embarrassed by having been seen…in the nude.

Romano, who was also avoiding eye contact since he was embarrassed for having seen the other completely bare, grunted in response and began to make his way to the room's only door. "We have nothing to lose. Let's go."

* * *

**A/N: Well...I think you can kinda guess who's at the door -_-...**

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Whoooaaa...so...it's been a while...two months...three...two...I don't know anymore, haha. Sorry for the long wait and the short/crappy chapter. Writers block and school work were teaming up on me and...yeah, haha. **

**Anyway, sorry the story's going kinda slow right now...I need to develop something since I'm just winging it but I just got this SUPER AWESOME IDEA. ...Not really, since I can't do super awesome stuff, but still =w=. So it will pick up soon AND it will also be pretty solid soon (as in, not switching POVs every two seconds). As a side note, I tried to stick some seriousness into this...so, yeah. Thanks for reviewing/following/favoriting...heck, thanks for just reading this thing =3=.**

**I've rambled for long enough...here's chapter 4...have fun~.**

* * *

**L****ife is Undefined**

**Chapter 4:**

**In Which the Members of the Bad Touch Trio are (Sort of) Reunited, Things Are Questioned, and Gilbert Talks to a Toilet**

"Hey, Antonio, we're here!" Francis called, knocking on the large, wooden door. Loud stomping could be heard, followed by what sounded like someone falling down a set of stairs and an angry voice (presumably Lovino's) yelling something unintelligible. The Frenchman was, in all honesty, completely perplexed with his albino friend. Sure, the German man was strange and somewhat eccentric, but to go to such lengths to change his appearance was just plain insane. Perhaps Antonio would be able to clue him in to whatever the hell was going on. "Antoniooo!"

The door opened almost immediately after the second call; revealing the slightly disheveled Spaniard who was, for some reason, blushing strongly. A small squeak floated up from the ground, and the blonde man glanced downward to see Lovino; very disheveled and clinging to Antonio's leg, his face as red as…well, a tomato.

"H-Hey, there, Frannn…cis," he said slowly, his eyes travelling to the blonde's face, then to the German behind the Frenchman (whom of which was waving his arms around and mouthing words to him), and back again, "What's up…?"

Francis raised an eyebrow, but refrained from commenting on the (once again) strange behavior. "We're going out tonight, remember? Get drunk? Grab a date (as Gilbert said)?" No response. "Whatever, I'll go get the car." With that, he left; turning around the corner of the house to what the countries assumed was the garage.

"Spain?"

"Sí. Prussia?"

"Ja."

"…and of course, no one remembers Italy Romano," the 'third wheel' of the situation grunted as he got to his feet, receiving an apologetic look from 'Antonio'. He brushed it off. "So, we've found potato-breath. What now?"

Gilbert gave him the stink-eye. "Not a clue," the albino sighed with a shrug, "Do we even know where the hell we are? Like, are we even on EARTH anymore?" He shoved his hands into his pockets. "…I lost all my stuff by the way. Cross, clothes-" the two other nations blushed once again upon hearing that, "-practically anything that could've helped us contact the others LIKE MY PHONE. I mean, seriously, that thing was _old_, but it cost-"

_HONK! _

"HOLY SHIT."

Having been so entranced in their conversation (or rather, Prussia's complaining session), all had failed to notice that a car had pulled out and was now resting by the curb. The driver's window unrolled and Francis smirked at them. "Come on, come on~!" he called, "You always like being the first ones there, non?" The two other members of the trio gave each other a sideways glance before slowly making their way towards the vehicle.

Lovino huffed, folding his arms across his chest. "Fine then, you two have fun getting drunk off your damn asses," he grumbled, stomping back up to the doorway, "Meanwhile, I'm gonna stay here and solve this shit."

The irked Italian man stepped back into the house and slammed the door behind him as the car on the side of the road sped away. None had noticed the figure hidden away in the shadows. Watching. Waiting. Soon, very soon, things would fall into place. And things would finally be _perfect_.

* * *

"Dude, what the hell are you doing." It wasn't even a question.

"What the hell does it _look_ like I'm doing, you idiot?"

"Um…vandalizing Germany's toilet?"

England took a brief break from his work in order to face-palm at the American's ignorance. Really, he didn't blame the poor fool since most countries of the world (save for Norway, Romania, himself, and _possibly_ that ex-nation idiot) didn't believe in their myths anymore. But really, what he was drawing even _looked _like your stereotypical magic circle. Well…as circular a circle as he could make on a toilet seat, but that was beside the point.

"I'm trying to establish some sort of communication," explained the irritated Brit, "By using a reflective surface and recreating the design that was on the doors I can create a screen of sorts in order to connect our worlds temporarily. Judging by what I saw earlier, it's likely that the spell cast on the room was a…transportation incantation, if you will. I'm not sure how it was activated, but it most certainly was not created by your run-of-the-mill magic."

"And that means…?" Germany asked slowly, obviously not able to take in all of the (crazy) information being flung violently in his direction.

"It's likely that your brother and whoever else was unfortunate enough to be trapped in that room are in another world not unlike our own."

"God, not those crazy Hookers again!" America groaned, "You have _NO IDEA_ how much trouble that caused!"

England sighed. "_PLAYERS_, you idiot, not hookers," he snapped, "And no, it's not the Two Players. We already have a permanent connection to their world through mirrors; no one would bother wasting magical energy on them."

France, who was still in a child's body, moved up closer to the bathroom appliance. "Are you implying that there are more parallel universes out there that we're not aware of?"

"Of course there are," England scoffed, finishing off the last mark with the strange writing utensil he had in hand and then turning to the small Frenchman, "There are multitudes of parallels and existences out there. So many that we're unable to even grasp even the concept of it at this point."

"S-So you're saying that Prussia and the others are somewhere dangerous…?" Italy stammered from his hiding place behind Germany, worry for the missing countries showing clearly in his voice.

The Brit shrugged. "Not necessarily, but who knows? They're in uncharted territory now." He then turned his attention back to the toilet and began to chant.

The rest stood in silence, allowing the information to sink in. There were nations – family, friends, and rivals – in an unknown place. And there was nothing that they could do to help.

* * *

For the first time in his long, long life Gilbert could say that the scent of cheap alcohol was getting to him. In a normal situation, going out to a bar with his two closest friends would've been totally great, but now…not so much. Antonio would give the albino a sideways glance every so often, as in checking in with him to make sure he was still there; especially now, since Francis had gone off somewhere into the more populated part of the room (most likely to flirt with some hot chick/dude).

Having had enough of the non-existent conversation, the Prussian stood and began to walk off. "Where're you going?"

"Bathroom." And with that simple, single-word answer, the man stalked off, maneuvering through the mass of bodies in the room in search of the sign that marked the men's lavatory.

Antonio watched him go, half wanting to follow but knowing that it probably wouldn't be that good of an idea. So, the brunette remained in his seat, keeping a close eye on his surroundings just in case of-

"Antonio."

"WAAAH!" The Spaniard fell off of his barstool in a rather ungraceful manner, taking the seat down with him. Francis didn't even bother to hold back a laugh as Antonio stood. _Well, so much for being cautious. _"Do you need something…?" Antonio asked with a sigh, picking the stool back up and sitting on it once more.

Francis sat as well. "Actually, yes," he said, "And it's about Gilbert. Do you know what's going on with him?" Antonio raised an eyebrow in confusion, so the Frenchman elaborated. "You know….he dyed his hair….and what are those, colored contacts? It's like he's trying to be albino or something."

_He…doesn't have albinism in this world? _"Sorry, man, I have no clue," he answered with a (fake) laugh and a shrug, "Maybe he's just going through another phase."

"…I guess, but-"

"ANTONIO, GET DAT ASS OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!"

* * *

They were in a new world, of that, Gilbert was certain. How was he sure? Well, the 'France' they had come across was definitely not the Two Player France and really, they didn't' know of any other strange worlds (except maybe Picton, but that's a completely different story). The man sighed heavily and quickly moved into a stall, plopping down onto the toilet seat and locking the door.

"Hey, Iggs, look! There's a butt!

"…I can see that, idiot. Now shut up before they hear-DON'T STICK YOUR HEAD IN THERE! THAT'S DISGUSTING!"

…_Those voices…_ Gilbert jumped off of his seat and knelt down on the floor, peering into the toilet bowl only to see America's grinning face in the reflection of the toilet water. The grin widened and the head was removed, giving the albino a clear view of a certain Englishman's face as well.

"Dude, it's Prussia!"

"Prussia?!" Part of Germany's surprised face also appeared in the water. "Brother?!"

The German and the American were then pushed away as Britain stuck his head in. "Prussia, is there anyone else there with you at the moment?" The albino nodded dumbly, not quite processing what was happening. Was he really talking to someone through a _toilet_? "Go get them. Now, while the connection still lasts."

"ANTONIO, GET DAT ASS OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!"

* * *

**A/N: Again...sorry...hopefully the next update will be quicker and less...blegh. Anyway, 'til then.**

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sup, guys...uh...so this isn't actually a chapter, it's more like a little Omake...I also made this on my phone (the author's note and everything) so sorry for any mistakes. The actual reason why I made this is because I have a warning-ish thing: I many not be able to upload for a while because school's out...so my computer's gone too (since we use a school loaned laptop). Also, we've been given this huge ass assignment...one that'll take the entire summer and upcoming school year to complete, so, yay! So I apologize for not being able to upload too quickly, but I guess you were prepared for that if you read my gigantic author's note in the first chapter..**

**Well, here we go. Enjoy~**

* * *

**Chapter** **4.****5**

**The Morning Before...**

"Roma~! It's time to wake up~!" Instead of being greeted nicely in return, North Italy was almost met with a pillow thrown rather violently at his face. Something was grumbled (it sounded like "Go away, bastardo") and there was a soft sound of shuffling before it went quiet again.

Now Italy found himself in a bit of a dilemma. He knew that he needed to leave for the meeting soon; he'd promised Germany that he'd pick him up...and not be late (again). But he also didn't want to risk waking his big brother, whom of which was often prone to violent outbursts early in the morning.

_Maybe I can sneak away and come back to pick him up later..._

Quickly, the Italian grabbed everything he thought he'd need and head out the door. It was dark outside, the only source of light being the single street lamp above their driveway. The man stumbled his way over to their red ferrari and was about to drive off when he thought of something. Italy whipped out his phone and began to type out a message.

**Heya, Lovi~! Hehe, I used your human name! Anyways, I left for the meeting already since Germany would get mad if I got there late and I didn't want to wake you up...but don't worry, I'll just tell Germany and Japan that I have to go back home and pick you up! ...Well, I guess that's it~.**

**-Feliciano**

And with that , he drove off.

* * *

Romano awoke to the sound of his phone signaling that he had received a message. No, wait, that was wrong. He'd actually woken up the moment his brother had called for him but was far too tired and lazy to get up. He was ready to fall back asleep for another half an hour or so when he heard the car starting outside.

"Oh, shit."

Without another moment of hesitation, he jumped out of bed and ran to the window, watching as their car pulled out of the driveway.

"Shitshitshit."

His phone went off again, telling him to check his damn messages already and when he looked...

"Why, god damn it," the southern Italian groaned, collapsing back into the bed, "Why...the one day I try to sleep in..." Romano glanced over at the clock. 1:34. Screw sleeping in, he was actually trying to have a normal sleep schedule.

_Maybe I'll just wait for the idiot..._

And so, Romano waited. And waited. An hour passes and he could feel his patience wearing thin. By the second hour, he was about to explode. Let's not even get started on the next ten minutes that followed.

"Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it all and screw everything I'm gonna kill him." He stormed downstairs, smoldering, and was about to leave when he realized something very important. "THAT DIPSHIT TOOK OUR WALLET. ...Gah...just my luck..." Romano scowled at the darkness outside. "Don't tell me I have to walk. Oh no, I am NOT walking to Mr. Potato-head's house. Not in a million centuries, no."

Not even ten minutes later, Romano began his journey to the World Conference that was being held in Germany later that day.

**The Morning Before All That Crazy Shit Went Down **

**- End -**

* * *

**A/N: Sorry again for the soon lack of updates, but I'll try to write as much as I can~! 'Til next time, whenever that is...**

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I'M ALIVE. Kind of. And not doing work because my brain is officially dead. Thanks for the people who reviewed/followed/favorited/read this. Hehe...I LOVE YOU PEOPLE. Jk. But really, you're all awesome~**

**Okay, so here's chapter five...enjoy~**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**In Which Lovino Finds Stuff and Russia is Finally Given Some Screen Time**

Antonio bent down, searching for Gilbert's legs in the opening underneath each bathroom stall. A pair of blue jeans showed from the third stall from the opposite wall, and the Spaniard hurried over to where his friend was. "What happened?" he asked, "I heard you-"

"Get in here!" The door was unlocked and Antonio found himself being pulled in onto the bathroom floor. There was a click as the stall was locked once more. Gilbert peered into the toilet bowl. "Okay, I have Spain. Now what?"

_Is he...talking to a toilet?_

"Was Spain the only one who was in the meeting room with you?"

_Is the toilet...talking back?!_ Antonio also gazed into the bowl, gasping when he saw a familiar pair of eyebrows.

"Italy's annoying brother was with us for a while, but we split off after finding that we had plans with...Francis," Gilbert said, frowning slightly, "That Commie bastard was with us before too, but who knows where the hell he ended up...and there was another person too...who was it?"

"China," Antonio cut in, "It was China. So, can anyone fill me in on what's going on here?" He then gestured to the appliance they were kneeling in front of.

"Iggers did some crazy magic shit and now we can use the toilet like a phone!"

"And he turned me into a kid. A kid!"

"It's not like a phone, stupid!" England hissed, "And no one cares about you, Froggy! Get away from here!" The Brit sighed before turning to face the duo on the other side of the water. "Sorry, but I don't think this'll last much longer. We'll try to establish a more stable form of communication on this side. What you two need to do is get back to where South Italy is, find the other two, stay together no matter what, and most importantly keep your guard up. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Ja, whatever."

England smiled. "Good. I'll see you again soon." The water rippled and the image faded, leaving the pair on their own.

The sound of a door creaking open and footsteps echoing through the room alerted the two nations. "Gil? Tonio? You guys in here?" Francis's voice called, resounding off the walls.

"Shit, get up here!" Gilbert whispered, jumping onto the toilet seat and offering his hand to the Spaniard. Antonio took the albino's hand and jumped onto the seat as well. This lead to a rather awkward situation as the two were now pressed very close together, balancing on the rim; Antonio's arms were wrapped around Gilbert's waist and the Prussian was leaning against the stall wall, arms around the Spaniard's shoulders.

"Why are we hiding?" Antonio mouthed, only to receive a shrug in return.

"Mon Dieu, where could those two have gone?" The sound of the bathroom door opening and closing echoed through the room before all went silent once more.

The pair jumped (fell) down from their perch and tripped ever-so-gracefully out of the stall. "Well, what now? We need an excuse to get back to your house."

Antonio gave his companion a look. "Gilbert, prepare to get more wasted than you've ever gotten in your entire life."

* * *

Ivan stepped through the halls of the mansion, taking in his new surroundings. He couldn't even begin to describe his surprise upon waking up within such a lavish place after having been in that meeting room. Being called "Master Ivan" was no small shock either. Which really brought up the question...

"Where am I...?"

"Did you say something, sir?"

"...No," the Russian sighed, "You can leave, you know."

The well-dressed man - a butler, Ivan assumed - bowed and left, leaving the nation to his own thoughts. _This place seems the same as my own home, he thought, In that case, I should probably look around a bit..._

So, the man made his way through the structure, finding that the floor plan was indeed a replica of the one he was used to. _Even the Baltics' and my sisters' rooms are the same...I wonder if-_

"Big brother?" _Oh, shit._

Ivan turned to see that his 'sister' (he wasn't quite sure if it actually was her or not at this point) was standing right behind him, gazing intently at him. "P-Privet, Natalia..." he stammered, already searching for some means of escape. She raised an eyebrow, as though he were acting strangely.

"Hello to you as well," she said, her expression not changing, "Is there a reason as to why you're standing by my room?"

"N-No...I was just walking around..."

She looked over him once, and then smiled slightly. "Oh, alright then," she said calmly, the smile not falling from her face, "I suppose I'll see you later. Farewell for now." Natalia stepped into her room, locking the door behind her and leaving a stunned Ivan in the hall.

_She didn't...do anything. Why?_

* * *

The light flickered to life, allowing Lovino a better view of the once dark room. It was…messy. No, wait…that was a complete understatement; it was like a tornado had blown through the entire fucking room. As far as he could tell, the ground wasn't even visible at this point. "Argh…why did I have to choose _this_ room to search first…"

The Italian began to sort through the piles of crap laying around everywhere, wondering if they really were in Spain (or a Spain equivalent)'s house. Normally, the man kept things pretty neat. Something like that wouldn't change because they found themselves in a different dimension, would it? _...Would it?_ Well, after meeting the Two Players, he supposed it was possible. _Besides, who the hell else would keep a huge-ass battle axe in their house?_

Lovino balanced the weapon in his hands. _Woah...the shit's real..._ He gave it a good twirl or two before setting it down in the corner. A weapon was a good thing to have, at least for the time being.

Something shiny caught his eye moved over to where it sat. A small, silver flashlight. The Italian bent down to pick it up, flipping it on and off as a test before pocketing it. _This could be useful later._

The brunette went through the rest of the house in a similar fashion, digging through piles of junk here and there until he looped all they way back to the bedroom. His starting point. With nothing, even after searching through every single-

_...I didn't search the bedroom._

The Italian man turned and placed his hand on the doorknob, his thoughts automatically going back to their initial awakening. Oh, the shame. Slowly, he twisted the metal and pushed the door open.

The room was just as he remembered leaving it. Clean...except for the bed itself, which was completely undone; sheets crumpled and strewn out everywhere. And if there were something to be found, it would be right where everything started. Lovino got down onto his knees and crawled under the bed.

It was relatively clean, save for the few crumpled up sheets of paper and a few dust bunnies sitting in the corner. There was just barely enough room for him to move comfortably and slowly, carefully he managed to flip onto his back without banging the bottom of the frame.

Lovino's fingers curled around the mini flashlight and turned it on. Shining it up at the wooden frame and feeling a triumphant smile form on his face.

"Bingo."

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! This is Kristol writing the note for haku-tan, who is also known as nii-chan (by me at least). Rah. Peace... Kristol out XD **

**Haku: My chapters are getting shorter...sigh...oh well =3=**

**TBC**


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